This fabulous group sex party story is written by Spencer Pritchard, and read by Matt Johnson.
I couldn’t take my eyes off you as you gracefully strode towards me. Confidence oozed from that huge grin you give, perfectly complemented by your delicate features, your talkative eyes and a sharp jawline. It was a face that I’d known my whole adult life. From first meeting you at college and an all too brief relationship, through a strong friendship which I eventually lost track of, to a reconnection built on understanding and empathy, truth and honesty, love and regrets. A face that had always brought a deep, wide smile to mine.
I couldn’t help but notice your body, too. As much I told myself not to objectify you, I wanted to take as much of you in as I could. The swing of your hips as you walked. The grace of your long legs, the split in your dress drawing my gaze as it grazed across your thigh. The midnight blue of the fabric complimenting your curves, kissing your torso in all the right places, perfectly framing your ample bosom… I filled my lungs with air in anticipation of you taking my breath away.
Then your infectious grin was in front of me, mirrored in my own inane smile. Words formed in my mouth but crashed against my teeth as they tried to escape from my lips, my senses askew at the sight of the sparkle in your green eyes. You placed a gentle finger against my mouth to soothe my unease and followed it up with a soft kiss.
A tidal wave of memories swept across my mind as your lips met mine – dancing between you and your best friend at a ‘70s theme night and hoping to not get an erection – stealing glances across the common room between lessons – our first, deeply passionate kiss that made my head swim – the scent of your neck as I held you close – our one and only sexual encounter, a hastily executed hand job in your bedroom whilst your parents downstairs – the break up not long after you had made me erupt – the next few years of looking and longing, but knowing that external pressures kept us apart… Passion, regret, excitement and trepidation sat in my chest as our lips parted and you took my hand, leading me to the awaiting door.
We were met by a lace-masked maitre d’, all in black save for the decadently deep red pocket square they sported. You gave a name, not yours I noticed, and received a knowing nod in return. Led by our man in black, we were guided to a dimly lit, but grandly decorated room, tables arranged in the round, all facing a stage with a pole at the centre. More masked men in black with red kerchiefs surrounded us, pulling out our chairs, filling our wine glasses, setting down napkins and cutlery and candles. As we sat, the aroma from the wine piqued my interest. Peppery, full, a hint of vanilla and raspberries. I held the glass to my nose for a deeper pull and revelled in the scent, just as I had done in the nape of your long neck so many years ago. I put my lips to the glass as if it was your slender collarbone, and gently drew the liquid into my mouth. The depth of the Rioja was excellent, and I felt it wash away those shipwrecked words from earlier. I turned to smile at you and tell you how good the wine was, but was interrupted by unexpected arms between us, setting down plates of grilled asparagus and hollandaise, a poached egg perched on top, deftly decorated with a touch of nutmeg.
Your eyes caught mine and you gave my thigh an excited squeeze. Drums thumped and cymbals crashed as a spotlight tore through the darkness and stung our eyes, landing on the stage and reflecting off the polished metal pole. A swung bass riff rumbled through our feet and stomachs, introducing us to blasts of brass and stabs of distorted guitars, culminating in a sultry, slow jam.
From out the darkness, above the spotlight’s beam, hands appeared at the top of the pole, gripping it with all their might as a body unfurled itself against the steel, slowly revealing themselves inch by inch, defying gravity and the audience’s sense of what the human body can do. There were sequins and glitter aplenty, washboard abs, sinews stretched and muscles popping, tassels hanging from nipples and a smile etched on to our performers face. They skilfully slid down the pole, legs wrapped around and arms out to the crowd as they slowly circled the steel, greeting the audience with spectacle and flesh. Your eyes widened to take all of it in as your fingertips pressed a little harder into my leg. I now know why you wanted to choose the venue for our reacquaintance…
We ate as we were entertained. Plates came and went, and the food was as exquisite as the acts on show. We were treated to more pole work, a hilarious magician, and were privy to an incredible burlesque routine which ended in the Monroe-inspired dancer dousing her near naked and perfectly sculpted body (and the closest tables) with champagne, only to catch the last drops in her mouth and fire it into the air in a spray of defiant decadence. We were both left elated, breathing heavy and pupils dilated. The tasting courses finished and we both enjoyed a sweet and smokey bourbon with more than a hint of maple running through it, our hands on each other’s thighs, your fingers perilously close to my rigid dick which you must have been able to feel twitch with every rush of blood through it’s prominent veins.
The lights dimmed further and faded to a blood red as the pole retracted into the stage. Masked faces in sharp suits moved quickly to set up sharply angled boxes as the guests around the room relaxed further into their seats. My curiosity wandered as I caught a wry smile crawl across your face, and felt your fingertips graze the head of my cock. You took a deep breath as you palmed along my length and leaned in towards me. My face met yours and our lips locked, your tongue finding the tip of mine in an instant and insistently pressing against it. The electricity in our kiss built and you edged closer to me, guiding your hips towards my hand that was now on the inside of your leg.
The music changed – dark techno pumped out of hidden speakers – and alerted us to a change in atmosphere. There are five bodies on the stage, all in various poses, draped across the angles of the furniture, doused in the red light, skin glistening with oil. They’re all naked, save for a harness around a particularly chiselled torso and a collar attached to delicate chains leading to nipple rings adorning a proud bosom. Hands are moving over their bodies, exploring their own skin as the music appears to have them entranced.
Nipples are pinched. Fingertips move across tightly defined muscles, around soft curves, between thighs. Hands reach out for the flesh of another as taut dicks are gripped and swollen mounds are enveloped. The entertainers buck and writhe as they touch themselves, the rhythm of their onanistic beats falling in time with the music. Sweat beaded on oiled skin and shimmered like glitter under the foreboding wash of red. The scent of excited, warm bodies filled the air and as the dancers turned their attentions to each other, some audience members took the cue and began to focus on their partners.
I had been so engrossed in the festival of self-love in front of us that I hadn’t noticed your left hand gently resting on the outline of my bulging cock-head, enjoying its persistent pulse against your palm, or that your other hand was tucked between your legs, dress ruffled halfway up your thighs, exposing your skin to the red light, glittering with perspiration in the same vein as the people on stage who were now fucking each other with their mouths. Tongues and fingers probed folds and creases, mouths muffled moans whilst they enveloped hard dicks. I couldn’t hold back at the sight of one dancer taking two cocks into their mouth and, after checking that our fellow coterie had abandoned all decorum in the spirit of the stage show, unbuckled my belt, unhooked and unzipped my trousers, and pushed them and my jockey shorts to my knees.
My stiff cock sprang from under the waistband of my underwear and bounced against my abdomen, stopping at ease and gently throbbing in the warm air. It felt good to be released, to be free and exposed. I didn’t care about the people around us, nor about the masked server behind us, and neither did you as you leant across from your seat and took the thick base of my dick in your right hand. You said nothing as you looked me in the eye before kissing me, fully, deeply, whilst giving my now aching member a heavy squeeze. You moved your lips from mine, thin chains of saliva connecting us and then breaking as you turned your face down and took in the sight of my exposed crotch.
A pause, and then the blissful feeling of completion as you took me into your mouth, wrapping your full lips around the head of my penis and circling me with your tongue. You moaned as you smelled and tasted me, savoury excitement and heady wood. I groaned as you slowly worked me deeper, taking each inch deliberately, still gripping the couple between your insistent fingers until your lips met them, and then you opened your throat and took me in further. My head swam as you swallowed my entire length, my eyes still bewitched by the licking and sucking and spitting on the stage in front of us, my cock squeezed by the muscles in your throat as you gulped against my engorged tip. An audible gasp left you as you released me, leaving my dick covered in strands of thick saliva and pale from being so tightly squeezed. Tears sat at the corners of your eyes as you smiled at me, proud of intoxicating me with your incredible skills. I grabbed your head and pulled you in for a spit-soaked kiss. I wanted to show you how grateful I was, but I also wanted to taste my cock on your tongue and share in that joy.
As our tongues danced with each other’s, you worked your hand up, down and around my now soaking dick, sending shivers and sparks around my body. God, I had wanted this for so long, and I had to steady myself against getting carried away with your expert touch. I ran my fingers up the inside of your damp thigh and found your centre. Bare, aside from your natural hair, and sodden, your soft skin felt like it had been waiting to be discovered, and I couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as I placed my whole hand over your torrid cunt. I could feel your heartbeat through your lips as I pressed my palm against the whole of you, your stiff clitoris poking at the heel of my hand, urging me to pay it some attention. I obliged and lightly ground my thenar muscle against you, causing you to shake a little. You giggled at the sensation, smiling as our mouths played, wondering why this hadn’t happened before, why we never got to touch each other this way, why we never fulfilled our connection and made each other feel as good as we possibly could…
Those thoughts were pushed away as my fingers parted your plump labia and entered you, squeezing past your tightness and curling around. A deep, rumbled moan escaped your chest as my fingertips rested on your g-spot, the soft mound of flesh acquiescing to my touch and causing your cunt to flood with excitement. Your eyes opened to meet mine, and with a look, you told me that was where you had needed me to be for longer than you cared to remember. Our foreheads met and our eyes locked, my fat cock still in your hand, as my wrist worked in tandem with my fingers. The base of my thumb grinding against your electrified clit and my fingertips massaging you from inside, your pussy clenching with every revolution, your wetness escaping and running across your other hole, the feeling of being full threatening to betray your cool sexiness in front of a room packed with strangers. You turn and look at them, scanning the floor and tables, watching other couples fuck each other, groups of people wrapped around each other in pleasure, bodies aside or alone, languidly masturbating to the delicious debauchery beside them, or in front of them on the stage.
You looked down to watch my fingers fuck you, your vulva gripping my digits as if you’d never let them go again, glistening in the deep red, the palm of my hand against the hood of your clitoris. ‘Is this too much?’ you worried as your brow furrowed, ‘being surrounded by an orgy, watching people fuck on a stage as you get fingered in front of them by an old flame…?!’ That worry quickly passed as a wave of intense pleasure washed over you. My hand moved and my thumb now circled your clit. My fingers moved faster and more insistent inside of you, asking you to focus on the ebb of urgency growing in the pit of your abdomen.
The music came faster, louder and heavier. The dancers on stage now fully into each other. They fucked each other in every conceivable position and combination, their screams and moans barely heard above the music, but faces twisted in pleasure as they neared their crescendo. You tried to watch the show as the flow of your orgasm became a tidal wave and engulfed you, pushing pins and needles to your fingers and toes, and making spots appear in your vision. Every muscle and sinew in your glorious body tightened as you grasped hold of that ecstatic feeling and rode it with all you could muster.
You forgot about my fingers inside you, fucking you to the beat, making you gush and splash over your thighs. You forgot about holding on to my thickness. You forgot about the oil-drenched dancers on the floor, and the sweat-browed guests all around us. You forgot about the masked servers, and the past, and the future and you let it all go because the here and now enveloped you. Your skin flushed and burned in that one good way. Your heart swelled and felt like it could burst through your chest. Your nipples stung and your breasts ached and your face went numb as you lost all control and came hard. Everything you held onto exploded from you. Your breath left your body in a guttural scream. Your enflamed desires engulfed you whole and burned themselves out. Your contentment broke through and spread to every corner of you, leaving you relaxed and spent.
Exposed and sodden, you flipped yourself over onto your knees, dress still piled up around your waist, blushed and dripping cunt on view to anyone who cared to look. You took me in your mouth again, relishing that still hard and wide and urgently throbbing cock, and worked my length with your lips. Seeing myself disappear between the lips that I dreamed of for so many years made me feel drunk. I’m overpowered by the sensation of you sucking my cock from the front of your mouth to the back of your throat in effortless strokes whilst we’re in the midst of an orgy of flesh. I could hear people on tables around us grunting and moaning, wet flesh slapping against wetter flesh. I could see thick dicks being devoured by hungry holes of all shapes and sizes, all genders loving being felt and filled and fucked, awash in the red light, a lust-covered monochrome piece of art. I could feel myself edging ever closer as you relentlessly pump your mouth against my flesh, one hand around my girth and the other tugging at my heavy balls.
I honed in on the tingling I felt cascading down my length from my frenulum and collecting in my stomach. My thighs stiffened and my hips thrust forward, pushing my buzzing cock right to the back of your throat making you gag and squirt at the same time. The sound of you gushing tipped me over the edge and my whole body tightened. The build up of energy spread throughout every muscle in me and my brow lifted as the feeling of your tongue on my dick became too much. You felt the change in me and withdrew your mouth, using your hand to frantically spread your spit over my rigid veins and straining cock-head. You begged for me to come on you. You pleaded for it in and around your mouth. You squeezed that little bit tighter as you wanked me off and with a burst of pressure a long stream of hot spunk erupted from my cock, firing over your eager face and landing on the table behind your head. You kept wanking me as another chain of thick jizz escaped, but with less force, and landed on your upturned cheek, the tail end falling into your open mouth.
My head fell back as you refused to give in to my moans and whimpers and you drew another length of come from me, straight onto your tongue and top lip, narrowly missing your eye with the bulk of the shot. My legs twitched uncontrollably as you took my cock back into your mouth to suck the rest of my load out, relishing the savoury reward of hot flesh and warm come. Before you can swallow, I guided your face to mine, and pressed my lips against yours, spreading my spunk across us both, and parted your full mouth with my tongue. The sweet and salty goodness shared between us felt incredible and groundbreakingly filthy as we broke into laughter and relief, and held each other whilst taking in the surrounding scenes.
We sat for around another hour, watching those around us finish their own sex adventures. The stage had emptied by then, the entertainers having done their job. The lights had changed from red to natural and the aftermath was astonishing. Bodies were everywhere, spent, panting, soaked in the juices of God-knows-who, and every one of them smiling. Some people were still fucking while others watched and wanked themselves back into oblivion. Some had tidied themselves up and were heading out to their regular lives. We sat in content silence, people watching, you wrapped in my arms, your dress still around your waist and my trousers still on the floor, well past any sense of shame or decency.
If you liked this fabulous story about reconnecting at a group sex party, you can find more of Spencer’s fabulous work over at LushStories or on Twitter @SpenPErotica, and more hot stories read aloud over at the audio porn page.